


Gold Dust

by Lady_Elwing



Category: Charloe - Fandom, Revolution (TV)
Genre: After the comics, Charlie the sheriff, F/M, Miles is no more, POV Bass Monroe, walking walking and walking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 21:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Elwing/pseuds/Lady_Elwing
Summary: A long time after having left both Charlie and Miles, after Connor's passing, Bass feels an urge to find them again. He doesn't know why but he just knows he has to find them.





	Gold Dust

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by three Discardedtwigs prompts : “the way she fell ; a forgotten day ; a city of vines“  
> Thank you for those prompts. It turns out they really got me inspired. And yes, I used all three of them.

There was a pebble stuck under his left boot, and the right sole had a hole and water kept on seeping in. Maybe he should get it mended. It was hard to say how much time had passed. He didn’t keep count of the days that went by as he kept on walking. His lips were parched and his vocal cords buried in dust. He just kept on going. He found water when he needed it, hunted when he was hungry, and barely slept.  
There was a need driving him on and on. He couldn’t stop, he shouldn’t stop.  
He had to find them sooner rather than later.  
Was it years or months later when he finally reached the United States? 

Somehow, he found his way back to the outskirts of his city; a city of vines. Nobody lived here. Only deformed rats and ghosts.People had died under his protection, turned into bits and pieces. He could see the shattered and gutted houses, the smell of rotting water and hear the wind cursing him It wasn’t so much about his city’s end but the way she fell. These crumbling walls would forever be a testament to his madness. 

He couldn’t care less about the radioactivity. Fuck, he was a ghost himself. He was already dead but never to be forgotten. Nothing poetic about it, it was downright pathetic. From Philly, he knew where he had to go. The name of the place was branded into his brain. This is when it all started, the day he decided to send Tom fucking Neville to find Ben, and ended up instead with two other Matheson hell bent on killing him, one more than the other. Would they still want to do him the honors?

After Connor had… he… After that forgotten day, he hadn’t looked back. He had left. His mind clouded with bitterness. Once more, Miles had ended up with a winning hand. He still had a family : Charlie, Charlotte. And Sebastian Monroe was just left with the ruins of an empire.

What else was left to stay around for? He had needed Miles to find the kid but it was over once he was dead. It was all over.

Only now, he had heeded the call. Good or bad, traitorous or loyal, Miles Matheson was his brother. And Charlie was family. They were a family, all three of them. He should never have left but there was no other way he could have dealt with the crushing hollowness in his chest that ate everything away.

Bass kept on walking, he met more people on the road. But he never spoke to them. He wasn’t even sure how he’d sound if he spoke. A voice so hoarse, nobody would understand him. He knew where he was going, but he didn’t really know how to get there. Of course, if he had bothered looking at a map it wouldn’t be so mysterious. Instead, he was relying on his gut feeling. Years and years on the road, both before the blackout and after, before the Republic and after, before Connor and after.

This was how he got there : stumbling silently all through the wasteland that was left of his Republic. Sylvania Estates. The board was fading but it was clean and no vines were growing over it.  
The village, estate, was still standing. It was mostly empty, though. As he walked around, unable to knock on a door and ask, he saw an old ferris wheel in the distance. Somehow, the incongruity of the ride made him want to investigate. It reminded him of something. Yeah. Pictures of the nuclear wasteland of Tchernobyl and the neighboring towns. It happened in the 80’s or something like that, right? Somewhere in Eastern Europe. Well, it was always the same story, wasn’t it?

He spied two figures sitting there, as if they were waiting for the ride to suddenly take them for a round. He would have turned around, and tried once more to find the courage to go through what had made him walk all the length of South America, Central America, and parts of the former United States, but something in the way the woman titled her head made his breath catch in his throat. He coughed. He couldn’t stop coughing, was he chocking? Fuck, he was getting old. 

When he opened his eyes again, she was peering at him.

“Monroe.“

“Charlotte.“ His voice painful tore through his throat and mouth. 

There was a child behind her who was considering him with wide eyes. So he did know who he was. He was still everyone’s worst nightmare.

“What.. Fuck.. You’re late.“ The words were tumbling out of her mouth. She looked older but she sounded just like herself. And those same bright eyes that had never left his dreams.

“For what?“

Her gaze dropped. The kid behind her looked equally sad.  
He knew that little face. He had seen that face, countless times. The day she died, the day Sammy the dog died… Grandma Matheson, even at his own family’s funeral. The day Miles realized he wouldn’t be able to find Ben and his family. Yes, he knew that face. But the memories faded, and the boy was sniffing and tugging Charlie’s hand.

“Charlie?“ His fresh little voice was a contrast to his own voice.The illusion was broken.  
He looked up at Charlie. A wry smile answered his silent query. This was Miles’ kid. Miles who had never wanted kids or families but who never found out what it was to be utterly alone because in every corner there was a Matheson to tag along.

Where the fuck was Miles?

“The funeral, You’re late for the funeral… two hours late.“ Her voice broke a little but Charlotte Matheson looked undaunted, “We didn’t make a big deal. He wouldn’t have liked it… You know? Anyways. It’s over. Do you?“ She paused again and this time he could almost glimpse the girl he knew so well, “Do you want to pay your respect?“

So he had walked so many days, months, years, whatever, to come too late?  
His life was a series of almosts, he was used to it. He clenched his jaw so hard he will most probably loose his leftover teeth. He felt her slim fingers wrap around his knuckle.

“Come.“ She made him follow. The boy was still holding her other hand. They walked through the empty estate, until they arrived to the cemetery.

A smell invaded his nostril, making him want to gag : freshly turned earth, he knew that smell so well, the smell of death. No fancy tombstones with names here, only a crude cross and Miles’ dog tags hanging from it. 

Fucking bastard. Fucking Miles.

He could feel rage, that must be it, oozing from his eyes, making his lips quiver. Charlie’s fingers dropped from his wrist and he heard her stepping away. He was left alone in this cemetery full of strangers. Ben was probably buried somewhere here. The thought didn’t distract him from the memories, rising with each of the tears coursing over his cheeks and into his unkempt whiskers and beard.

What a mess. What a fucking mess. And he had missed his own brother’s funeral. He had missed it all. Now there was no one to stop him from drawing out his gun, and…

“He said you’d come back.“ Charlotte voice startled him. He hadn’t heard her returning. He turned around, slowly. The kid was gone, she standing alone, silvery hair to her waist, her usual boots and jacket. Familiar Charlie, all flesh and blood Charlotte.

“Too late? Right?“ His throat was raw with a raging thirst. There were not enough alcohol left to make this thirst go away.

He had been late for his family’s funeral. They had waited for him, at least. But Miles? No telegram, no text, no call could have reached him in time. What a fucking joke. 

“Listen… You should come in. Have some food.“ 

Mrs Huntington had made sandwiches and left them on the porch. Miles had forced him to eat something when he had finally been able to come to town. He could still taste it, the stale sandwich that tasted like dirt. Human beings needed food, comfort, they say. But he was a ghost, right? He couldn’t even feel his toes. His whole body was numb. But he felt her hand squeeze his shoulder and sliding to his arm, right where he had burnt off his name.  
“Come on,“ her voice was soft, beckoning him, drawing him to the warmth and light.

He followed her. He was too tired, thirsty, hungry and cold to think anymore. Miles was dead, really dead this time. It was over.

Charlie opened the door to a small house and pulled him in. There was a fire going, a few candles. On the table, Charlie, most probably, had set two plates on the table. She let go of him to peer into the fireplace. There was something cooking over the fire. He couldn’t stay here, it was too clean, too warm and too safe. Too civilized. He belonged on the road.

“Sit down.“

He sat down. He would never have guessed Charlie was the nurturing type. But she filled his plate twice, and let him sleep in her bed. Mumbling something about a couch. His head was spinning too much, his eyes burning too much for him to care, or to be chivalrous. He slept like a log. When he woke up again, he couldn’t tell the time. He could hear voices in another room. The sunlight was filtering through the faded curtains. On the nightstand there was a glass of water, a book and a candle. He was lying in Charlotte Matheson’ bed, in her very own bedroom. Carefully, he sat up and stood up. Everything was working properly. Almost on tiptoes he left the bedroom and ventured towards the voices. On the table by the fireside, Charlie was peering down on a map alongside two men around her age, all three of them were wearing some kind of uniform.

Charlie looked up and found his gaze.

“Morning.“

“Hey. What time is it?“

The other two guys looked at him curiously. Did they know who he was?

“You missed lunch.“ He shrugged at her vague answer.

“What’s going on?“ He pointed at the map. 

“Oh just a situation that needs dealing… You know? Just a a bunch of thieves. They’ve attacked the estate twice. We need to get rid of them.“

“How many?“

“Not much. Just a bunch of teenagers.“ Her face didn’t offer any clue but he was good at reading her eyes. She didn’t like it but she knew it had to be done. Survival of the fittest and all that shit. Charlie Matheson had grown.

“I can help. I just need to wash up…“

“We’ll see about that M… James.“ Her careful avoidance of his name and the use of his favorite pseudonym was proof enough that these puppies had no idea who he was. “I’ve got some water in a bucket if you want, or there’s the river.“

He opted for the river. It was the closer he could get to a shower. The cold water was a relief to his tired body. Joining in a raid was probably not the best thing to do after such a long journey but it was the only thing he could do. Go on, keep on going, doing what he did best. He dipped his head into the cold water. He could feel the blood circulating from his toes to the very roots of his hair as he straightened up. No, he was not yet a ghost. He was still alive and able. He dried himself with a rag Charlie had given him, and slipped on his jeans. His shirt still in his hands, he looked around him. He had sent Tom Neville to do his dirty job. Maybe things would have gone differently if he had gone himself. Maybe.. Fuck what ifs. He was too old to even pretend there was any use in wondering. This place gave him a sense of a paradise lost. That movie.. What was that movie? The one Ben liked. Yeah, the one with the dwarf like creatures. This reminded quiet little place reminded him of that fairytale land where people minded their own business, had good fires in their hovels and quiet simple lives. 

Perhaps, some people had found some semblance of peace in his Republic. Perhaps, he had managed to do some good in all the evil he had wrought. A twig snapped, making him turn around. Charlie was considering him from a distance.

“I thought you had drowned.“ She offered with another of her half smiles. 

“I wish…“ He hoped his voice had drowned in the roar of the river but he could see in her eyes that she had heard him. She made her way down, her gaze drifting from his face to his bare upper body, back to his eyes.

“We can handle our little band of petty criminals ourselves. It’s the usual..“ She stopped a few steps away from him. He still made no movement to put on his shirt. It was amusing, even flattering to see how hard she found it to keep her gaze on his face and not on his chest. Yes, it was definitively flattering.

“It’s been a while since we fought side by side.“ He cocked his head. He was curious to see how Charlie had grown as a fighter, “if you want I can try to persuade your superior.“

Her eyebrows rose and she stifled a laugh, “My what? I’m the sherif. M… Miles was the sherif for a while until he retired and I took over. You’d like the people here,“ she was smiling but her eyes were sad, “they still follow your rules as if the Republic still existed. Those guys you met in my kitchen are one of the few who dare use firearms. You’d be proud.“

His gazed dropped to his feet and he shook his head, “they like being helpless? Raided by stronger people?“ if his voice could be drunk, it’d be poison. He was sure of it. But Charlie could whitstand everything, she merely shrugged.

“It’s ok now. Since we joined them, they’ve been ok. It’s mostly quiet here.“ Her face didn’t offer any clue on how it made her feel. He finally slipped on his shirt, it was becoming chilly. There would be more opportunities to tease Charlotte and relish in her heated gaze and flushed face.

“How was it here? When you were a kid?“ It was too late to take the words back. He hadn’t meant to ask. He wasn’t allowed to. He was her childhood villain, wasn’t he? But he was surprised at her reaction, there was no venomous glare, no sharp words : she was almost smiling,

“It was nice. Boring but nice. I think I took it for granted, mostly. I hope Benny will do the same : you can only take something for granted when it’s that good.“

He couldn’t help but feel humbled by her answer. 

 

“You’re right. I did the same. It was nice growing up in Jasper.“ His folks had been the best, Miles on the other hand had it bad. The only thing they both had in common were their ever disappointed fathers. Other than that, where his home was always full of laughter and good food, the Mathesons’ was mostly empty.

The past hung heavy between them. She hand been there, tagging along with Miles. She knew what he had done in Jasper. Emma. Poor Emma. Collateral damage was an awful word, so dehumanizing.

“We should go back to the house and gear up.“Charlie’s word broke his train of thought.

They left an hour later. It was a strange experience to be back in a group, and stranger even to have Charlotte Matheson calling the shots. Duncan had been right all along. Charlotte was born to lead. The other two guys hung back, almost too pleased not to be first in line. He hadn’t bothered finding out their names. 

The poachers were hiding in a small hut in the woods. Charlie had been right, these were unexperienced teenagers.

Within five minutes, they had gathered the six teenagers who had been stealing from the estate. Bass didn’t know what he expected but mostly shots and cries, but instead Charlie stood in front of them,

 

“This is your last warning. You are now sentenced to help us farm the land for one year.“

 

“why we’re…“

“Shut up. It’s either that or the noose. Do you understand?“ She looked fearsome as she spoke. He would have preferred offing them. Once a stealer, most probably a thief for life. This was how you kept people in line, under your grasp.. Until they crumbled into dust.  
But Charlie was still Charlie. A stronger version of the younger woman he had travelled with but still her. And she was blinding him.

As they marched the teenagers to the building where they would be sleeping from now on, Bass walked side by side with Charlie. She had just explained that they had been preparing for this. They needed help as there were less and less people at the Estates. Her deputes will be sleeping there too to keep an eye on things but she didn’t expect any trouble.

In front of them, Bass could hear one of the blonde guy whispering to the girl next to him,

“… I swear. It’s her! The niece of the Butcher of Baltimore. I’m surprised we’re not dead yet.“

Bass peered at Charlie, she smirked. While Charlie was busy handling the prisoners and her deputes Bass went to sit on her front porch. It was a small house but big enough for her. Next door, he could see that boy, Miles’ kid, with his mother. 

“Hi.“ Bass looked up and realized that a man was towering over him. He sprung up.

“Looking for Charlotte?“

“Yeah… Where’s Charlie?“ So that was probably the boyfriend or whomever Charlie was keeping around for company. 

“Work.“

“Who… Who are you?“ 

“A friend of Charlotte… And Miles. You?“ Bass couldn’t help but snarl. It was always reassuring to know that although age was catching up on him, he still had the power to intimidate puppies. 

“Joe. I just.. I..“

“There you are!“ Charlie joined them on the porch. Joe looked relieved and Bass really had to bite back another triumphant smile. It was childish, stupid, asinine, Miles if had been able to stomach the circumstances would have called him an idiot. It wasn’t like he and Charlie ever had a real thing going on, but it was always there in each and every of their shared looks. And although he had come back for Miles, she was also part of the picture… Perhaps much more than he cared to admit but was force to acknowledge when he saw Joe peck Charlie on the lips. She pulled away from Joe, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I guess you guys already introduced each other?“

“Sort of. Not the particulars, though.“ Bass answered, drawing her in with his gaze. It wasn’t like he needed to fight anyone over her. Charlie had always been gliding like an amazon from whichever lover she had picked. Nah he wouldn’t fight over her but he knew she was smart enough to stop fighting herself. Their mutual attraction had never died down or been affected by anyone. Even after New Vegas…

Joe looked ill at ease. Bass shook his hand,

“James King. We’ve known…“ He looked at Charlie, she narrowed her eyes to warn him but it couldn’t stop him, “I’ve known Charlie since she was a baby.“

Ok. That sounded weird, given the circumstances. He turned towards Charlie again,

“I’ll give you some space I guess. Is there a bar?“

“Not officially, but Aaron has his own moonshine business going on.“ She pointed towards one of the houses. Would be nice to see Stay Puft again, and some alcohol in his system would make things clearer. What he hell was he doing here? Wasn’t he too old for to act like an idiotic boy?

Aaron answered at the first knock. 

“What the… Monroe!?“

“Sure. Tell everyone while you’re at it. Or is it what the kids say these days? It’s King. James King.“

“Not Bond?“

“Charlie told me you had an underground moonshine business going on.“

That was all was needed for Aaron to bring out his bottles. Of course, it was nothing like his well stocked bar as General President Monroe. But it had to do. 

As time went by, Aaron was starting to grow less and less awkward. Telling him stories about Miles and Charlie. He could tell he missed Miles. 

“So who’s that guy? Joe?“

“Joe?“ Aaron was laughing.

“What Mr Genius? Did I miss something?“

“Nah.. It’s just that Joe has been after Charlie for years… I think she’s pretty messed up because of Miles.“

Bass pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. This stuff was really making messing up with his brain cells.

“It’s a new thing. I think.. Yeah. New as in today or was it yesterday? Nah this morning I think.“

Bass almost spit out his drink, “What?“ 

There was a knock upstairs and before either could move, Charlie was here. 

“What happened to your friend?“

Charlie shrugged and settled herself on of the chair, suddenly looking forlorn. She raised the glass Aaron filled for her,

“For Miles. He would have enjoyed this.“

They raised their glasses but the name of his best friend, died on his lips.

Later that night, Charlie and Bass left Aaron snoring on his sofa and walked back home.

“Whatever happened to your date?“

Charlie made a face. She didn’t make a comment as she unlocked her front door. Bass stumbled in, right after her.

“It’s like New Vegas all over again.. Right?“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ Charlie was pouring water out of a jug into a a glass. She emptied it in one gulp Truth was, all those years ago they had barely talked about it. There hadn’t been any time for talking.

“Here I was thinking you had finally grown up.“

“Clearly you haven’t.“ She spat back.

They were standing face to face. She wasn’t looking away. The wrinkles were gone, the scars and other signs of the time. All that existed were her eyes, the answers to his questions. The knowledge he always had of something she will never say, never admit. They belonged together. Not as General Monroe and Charlie Matheson the avenger. No, no.. Those two were each other’s destruction. And from that destruction, two new people had emerged. Charlotte and Sebastian. It was a strange feeling, to feel so hollow yet finally complete. It wasn’t like she completed him or any other bullshit of that sort. No, it’s in her eyes that he saw the possibility. It’s in her eyes that he saw the green light. She was the one who drew him out of the self pitying, self hating hole he had made for himself in New Vegas. She was the one who wanted to kill whatever was left of him but decided against it. She was the one who gave him a chance when neither her mother, nor Miles were willing to. She was the one, he was told, who begged her family to keep him alive after his execution. She was the one who gave him another chance, time and time again. He never deserved it, but she gave it anyway.

Part of him, had come to find Miles but another part, hidden yet stronger, had come seeking the other Matheson. The Last Matheson. Charlotte.

Mesmerized by her iron gaze, he raised one hand, then the other to cradle her face. He could now see the lines in the corner of her eyes and those frown lines deeply etched into her soft skin. How did it happen? Just yesterday she was that young woman, barely an adult, chasing him down to kill him. And now she was someone else, stronger, calmer. Someone who had survived the storm and was now offering him her naked eyes, and all the truth that he needed.

“I did run. New Vegas…? Yeah. I slept with him because it was the only way to stop myself from going for what I truly wanted.“ Her voice was softer now as she added, “but you ran too… All the way to South America. You left and never came back.“

“I have. I am back. “ he added words that echoed with memories of her own words a long time ago, “I came back, Charlotte. I always come back.“

He was like a chronic disease she couldn’t get rid off. Fuck. He was pathetic. So loyal, like a dog. he had been loyal to Miles although time and time again he had been kicked in the face. This is who is, who he had always been. He was tired of fighting against it. He was loyal fool who was forever looking for that warm light in that window.

“But I will leave this time. For good. If you really want me to leave.“ If she could grow, so could he. He could grow out of this stupid toxic habit of trusting too much of offering loyalty to Mathesons who were only loyal to themselves. He blinked. No he couldn’t say that about Charlie, she hadn’t betrayed him. Perhaps because he had taken away everyone for whom she could have betrayed him. His gaze dropped this time, as well as his hand. Fuck, fuck, fuck…  
He took a step back and turned around.

He was clearly wasting his time. His hand was resting on the doorknob when he heard her voice :

“No. Stay.“ He turned to face her. Her eyes were glistering, one single tear making its way to the corner of her mouth. She cleared her throat before speaking again, “You came back. And they’re all gone…“

His last silent question hung heavy in the air as he crossed the distance between them. She looked so much like the Charlie Matheson who had killed her first love, Jason. It didn’t matter if she was choosing him because there was no one else left. Beggars cannot be choosers. His arms went around her, her lips finding the top of her head, her forehead, her eyelids and her lips. His kisses were not soft anymore as her mouth opened under his, her tongue claiming his own mouth, her teeth gnawing his lips.

Some things were worth waiting for.

Her fingers were digging into his hair,fluttering over his neck and pulling off his shirt. Not caring if this was the only shirt he owned. His shirt was on the floor, her hands gliding over his chest, nails grazing his nipples and dipping under his waistband. She looked up again and kissed him, pushing him against the door, slamming it shut.

She was truly here, she wanted him as much as he had always wanted her. It wasn’t just lust, no, it was something they had been carrying for a long time. 

Charlotte was nestled against his bare chest as they were lying in front of the fireplace. They only had embers and each other to keep themselves warm. It was more than enough, they had enough spark between each other to stay warm forever. Now, he knew without a doubt he’d couldn’t be able to leave now. She had claimed him as hers. Charlotte, his Charlotte.

“Who would have thought it would end like this?“ mused Bass.

“End? I know you’re old but not that old… I mean not too old yet to be of use.“ She had a knowing smile playing on her lips. Good to know he hadn’t disappointed her in this department. 

“But I know what you mean. I did truly want to kill you. Though,“ she shot him an impish look, “when I was younger I did find you very hot.“  
He couldn’t help but laugh. Charlotte Matheson was always full of surprises.

“In my defense, all the boys in the village were just that. Boys. Gangly and full of acne. But your flawless pretty face was everywhere.“ she was laughing now as she sat up, the sheet barely covering her breasts and offering him a distracting view, “ and if you tell anyone, I will have to kill you but,“ was there a blush creeping over her cheeks? “the first time I saw you… Let’s just say I was terrified and angry.. and all that, but you did look much better than those handouts of your face.“

So they had been dancing around this for that long? He smiled as he recalled that dark day they met for the first time.

“I didn’t really notice you until you asked Strauser to shoot you. You were.. Fuck.. You were breathtaking.“

He could still see her… Younger, her eyes still bright with optimism but with that Matheson determination. 

“And you were… crazy?“ He could see it, that sharp intake of breath, the quiver of her lips. But she didn’t indulge in it, her gaze was once more sharp and on his eyes. The resentment wasn’t making her pull away from him. Was it even stil there?

“Now that we’re are confessing things. I’ll have to say something, “ her fingers were on his burnt skin,“something I haven’t told anyone.“

“Sure.“

“I hate it. Here. I was the one who said we should come here. After mom and all that. But it was stupid.“ His hand had found hers, their fingers were interlaced, “There’s no going back. It’s not the same. Not without Dad.. Danny or Maggie. It’s just a place.“

“Why didn’t you leave?“

“Miles. I never thought it’d happen but it was Miles who started to.. I don’t know? Grow roots or something. I never saw him like this… He reminded me of dad sometimes. To be fair I hardly knew him at all. After Rach.. Mom died, he was a different man. We were all different.“

She sighed, shaking her head slightly, “I don’t belong here anymore. Maybe I never did.“ She had that forlorn look again. He had heard her talking to Miles often, by their campfire. He knew that she had always wanted to leave the Estate when she was young. He knew that feeling : all he wanted was to leave Jasper. but once you left, you couldn’t ever come back. His own homecoming had been disastrous. 

“You’re going to stay for that kid?“

She shook her head, “No. I told him my story… Miles’ and everything in between. I think he deserves to have a happy normal life. I think,“ there was a twinkle in her eyes, he wasn’t sure if it were a tear or hope, “it’s time for me to leave.“

He was quiet. He didn’t dare breathe too loudly. He didn’t dare move or even look away. She went on talking with the same low voice :

“What about you? Where are you headed?“

Where was he headed? He didn’t know the answer to her question. He stared into her eyes, trying to find that anchor, that spark that had always given him some kind of hope.

“I don’t belong anywhere either,“ he admitted, “I just knew I had to find you… both of you. Now.. I just don’t know.“ He paused. She blinked but her gaze never left his. He had no other words to offer. What could he possibly say? He could still see the destruction of Philly, of everything he had ever tried to build. People would shoot him on sight in Jasper, and he wouldn’t blame them. Maybe he should let them.

“Heard peopled needed help up North. There’s another group like the Patriots. Some kind of crazy people who want to create a new country. But they’re doing it all wrong. Killing people, minorities or something like that. Maybe.. Maybe we could help fight against them?“

Her voice was hesitant and he didn’t dare let out a breath. Is this how she had looked when she came to beg Miles to help her? She certainly didn’t look like this when he asked her to take him to Miles.

“Yeah.. Why not? Where else could I… we go?“

We, the word slipped easily on his lips. He hadn’t uttered it in a long time, well it wasn’t like he had been talking so much in the recent years. Charlie wasn’t pushing it back down his throat. Instead she was nodding, deep in thought.

“Right. So I guess we have a plan.Fighting. That’s what we do best anyways.“ She surprised him as she crept closer to him again, her forehead finding his shoulder. She wrapped herself around him. He had looked forward to sleeping in a bed, but somehow there wasn’t any other place he wanted to be than here on that rug.Tomorrow they’ll leave, together. But tonight, he had a roof over his head, and more importantly : he had Charlotte Matheson sleeping in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a reference to Tori Amos' song with the same title. 
> 
> I really enjoy using Bass' POV. I hope I do him justice. After having written this, I came to realize that this wasn't the first time I made one of these two lovebirds walk to the other. “Lust for life“ is perhaps echoed in this story, but this time it's Bass who is walking through the country to find her.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it as much I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
